


there's an endless road to rediscover

by apollothyme



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Mentions of blood and various wounds (nothing graphic), Minor Character Death, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day they met, Peter was seven years old and Johnny was eight. This is the story of their relationship through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song 'Hey Brother' by Avicii, poems excerpts by me. Thank you to everyone who kept me motivated and inspired as I wrote this, there are a bunch of you and you're all awesome. Also thanks to the amazing [Jojo](http://makomoris.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this fic so quickly.
> 
> Since the background for the new F4 movie is still unknown, I made it up based on some comics canon, some things from the previous movies and my imagination. Hope everyone likes it!
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Any critiques, comments, reviews or basic spell-checks are always appreciated. x

 

> “you fixed my wounds and bandaged my cuts,  
>  kissed the back of my neck and told me  
>  i was a dumbass  
>  and then you kissed my lips  
>     
>  (and I forgot how to breathe)”

 

**March 24th, 2003**

The day they met, Peter was seven years old and Johnny was eight.

The difference is by three months, six days and seven hours. Johnny likes to remind Peter of so every so often. He thinks it makes a difference, him being older. It means he’s wiser, seen more of the world already. He’s the boss. The older one. The head of the gang.

"But we don’t even have a gang,” Peter complains, swinging his feet up and down.

They’re sitting on top the of the swing set, high up above the ground, held in place only by a thin metal bar. It’s late, past six p.m. and there aren’t many kids left in the playground. Just him, Peter, and a couple of other unlucky few with families too busy to pick them up. At least there’s no one around bothering them and telling them to get down, that they’re not safe up there.

"We could have a gang,” Johnny replies. Mom sometimes lets him stay up to watch television, and Johnny’s seen enough cop shows to know that gangs are dangerous and badass and he could totally have one. Totally.

Johnny Storm. Head of the gang.

"Who else would be part of it?” Peter asks. He’s always asking questions, always butting his nose everywhere. As the older one, Johnny feels like it’s his duty to protect Peter, make sure he doesn’t ask too many questions to the wrong people.

Some people really, really hate being asked too many questions. Johnny gets it. The first time he met Peter, Peter asked him why he was black and his sister was white, and Johnny’s response was to punch Peter in the face.

He got detention, two hours doing homework with Mrs. Thompson watching over him. When he finally got out, Peter was outside waiting for him, holding an hand-written apology letter. Johnny couldn’t help feeling sorry for the kid, and if he was honest, sorry for giving him a black eye. They became quick friends after that. It didn’t take Johnny too long to realize Peter hadn’t meant anything by the comment. The kid just had trouble keeping his mouth shut, which explained why he didn’t have any other friends and made Johnny decide he’d watch out for him from that moment on.

"Sue could be part of my gang,” Johnny swings himself to the left, grabbing hold of the swing by the side so he can go down.

"Sue would never be part of our gang,” Peter does the same but to the left. Johnny feels the need to go over and help him down, but Peter’s strong for all that he’s thin, and he gets himself back on solid ground in two fluid motions with no trouble at all. That is, of course, right until he trips over his own two feet and falls face forward onto the soft polyester ground.

“Jesus, Pete. It’s like you have two left feet,” Johnny rushes over to help, pulling Peter up with all the finesse of an eight year old and eleven months boy.

It’s very important to Johnny that no one forgets the eleven months part, otherwise he’d just be eight years old, like Peter, and that wouldn’t do.

"Sorry,” Peter says, brushing himself off. He looks down at his hands, embarrassed, and picks a loose thread of cotton from his jacket, stopping when Johnny puts a hand over his.

"It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing for everything.”

Peter looks up at him with big, doe eyes, far too big for his head, and Johnny resists the urge to cuff him on the head. "Thanks,” Peter says, all open sincerity and raw emotion.

Johnny thinks it’s almost a miracle Peter wasn’t bullied before Johnny was kind enough to befriend him and ask him to join his gang. Then again, not so much. Peter moved recently after his parents died. New house, new school, new life.

Johnny doesn’t ask him about it. He’s good at that.

"Let’s go play, I'm bored,” Johnny pulls Peter by the arm and drags him over to where the only kids left are playing an elaborate game of mom & dad & the racially diverse family. And by elaborate Johnny means they’re running around after each other, the kids rebelling by shouting random curse words at nothing and the mom and dad grounding them.

"Hey, can we play?” Johnny asks.

His question is not a question. It’s an angry command by an eight year old kid who has had to change schools twice already because kids are dicks, and since Johnny hasn’t figured out how to properly make friends yet, the only friend he has is the kid who is too loud and smart for his own good and who Johnny is kind of fond of, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

"Sure, we need two more people for the wedding,” says a girl with blonde hair in two pigtails.

Johnny thinks that she means two people to act as ring holders or to help carry the tail of bride’s dress. Obviously, he’s wrong. What she means is two people who will stand on top of a small flight of stairs and kiss while the others throw leaves and whatever else they can find over them.

"Why do you have to throw trash over us?” Johnny asks. Peter doesn’t seem to have any problems getting married to him, so he doesn’t either. It’s just a stupid game anyway.

"It’s not trash,” one of the boys says as he breaks some of the leaves into smaller bits. "It’s rice. You have to throw it, otherwise the marriage isn’t official.”

"It’s trash,” Johnny replies, completely deadpan. The kid shoots him off an annoyed look, but doesn’t say anything else.

“ _Johnny_ ,” Peter says, giving Johnny a small playful kick, "don’t be a dumbass, it’s obviously rice.”

Johnny can’t help laugh at Peter’s innocent little voice, so clearly fake. The way Peter widens his eyes for effect only makes the only act sweeter. Johnny can’t wait until they’re a bit older and more muscular and he can start taking Peter around with him to charm the ladies. It’s going to be wicked.

Peter’s smile widens at the sound of Johnny’s loud laughter, but this part Johnny misses.

"Alright, we have all the rice. Let the marriage begin!” some girl says, making Johnny roll his eyes at her. It’s not rice, it’s trash.

He only refrains from saying something because he’s about to get married and as stupid as this whole game is, Johnny’s still eight with a gap in his teeth from last week when his last milk tooth fell out, and a bruise in his arm from when Sue punched him after he won against her at Mario Kart. Which is to say Johnny’s still a kid, no matter how hard he tries to act older, and these things are fun, as stupid as they might be.

Also, one of the girls put flowers on Peter’s head, and Johnny can’t help thinking ‘cute’ before he pushes the thought away and replaces it with ‘funny’. Some things are that simple.

Except they’re not, not at all, but Johnny’s about to get married to his best friend. He can worry about the details later.

The sun’s about to set when the girl with the pigtails pronounces them man and wife. Johnny thinks about correcting her, but it’s not worth it. He gives Peter a peck on the cheek and cuffs him on the head like he’s been wanting to do all afternoon.

A few minutes later Peter’s uncle shows up pick him up, followed not too long after by Sue to pick up Johnny.

And that’s the story of how Johnny Storm and Peter Parker got married, in beautiful New York City, on 24th of March, 2003.

* * *

A week later they play the game again with the same lonely kids. Johnny thinks about inviting them into his gang, but he likes it as it now, just him and Peter. Also they keep insisting the trash they’re picking up is rice (“For the other wedding!”) and Johnny can already imagine himself getting an eye injury from rolling his eyes too often.

Peter asks for divorce when Johnny decides to tackle him from behind while they’re playing hide and seek. Johnny laughs and cuffs him on the back of the head again. He tries pulling Peter into a one armed headlock, but he’s only got two inches and a couple of extra pounds on him, and Peter manages to push him off without too much effort, making Johnny laugh louder.

Being divorced to Peter feels exactly like being married felt like, which in itself felt pretty similar to single life. Johnny wonders what the big fuss is all about.

* * *

A month later, they’ve both forgotten the whole thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**July 12th, 2009**

He drops the two bottles on the counter and pulls out his wallet without looking at the cashier. Outside the dingy 7-Eleven store, hiding behind the corner of the building next door, there’s this weird looking kid with a mop for hair and wide, red rimmed eyes wearing a black suit that’s one size too big for him. Inside the store is his best friend, who’s hit an early growth spurt accompanied by soccer practice, which has allowed him to move past his scrawny phase.

Nevertheless, the clerk still eyes Johnny with suspicion. "ID, please,” the woman says, holding out a hand.

Johnny sighs, as if this is all dreadfully boring and beneath him, and takes out the fake ID he bought from a sketchy looking guy in his neighborhood. The guy on the picture actually looks like him, but the name’s ridiculous, Stevie Gonzalez.

The clerk gives it a good look and even scratches the picture, thinking it might come off like a sticker. After a couple of seconds she hands Johnny back the ID and opens the cash register.

This is neither the first, nor the last time, Johnny’s bought alcohol with a false ID, although this is the first where he’s felt so relaxed about the whole thing. It’s funny, since he’d have gotten in a lot less trouble before if he was caught than he would now, but today is just one of those days where everything feels heavy and nothing seems to matter. It’s one of those days where Johnny only got out of bed because Sue dragged him out with tears in her eyes, and he didn’t know what else to do but to hug his sister and put on the clothes she’d picked up for him.

He pays the cashier with a twenty and pockets the change without even looking at it. He also doesn’t meet the woman’s eyes, and he wonders if she might take it as a sign of nerves or if simple rudeness. It doesn’t matter what she thinks, but Johnny’s mind is racing faster than a bullet train trying to find things to think about and lose himself in. Anything that isn’t thinking about this whole week, and the week that is going to come after, and every week after that.

He should make a plan for tonight, for Peter’s sake. Genius Peter Parker, who is probably worrying himself sick right now as Johnny leaves the store with two full bottles of tequila in a cheap plastic bag. Crazy Peter Parker, who lied to his aunt and told her he was going to spend the night at Johnny’s, who watched as Johnny told Sue a similar lie in reverse, who let Johnny take out both their ties and stuff them in his pocket as they left Brooklyn Cemetery.

"Ties make me feel suffocated, and you looked like a lost duck wearing that,” Johnny said as way of explanation, even though Peter hadn’t asked.

Peter’s getting better at not asking too many questions. Sometimes he still slips and opens his mouth, which might earn him anything from a glare to a full-blown roundhouse kick in the stomach, which, granted, had only happened once, and Johnny had beat the guy’s ass to the ground afterwards. Peter had only asked him if he could pass him a milk carton in cafeteria, for fuck’s sake.

Johnny’s not sure if he likes Peter’s chosen moments of silence all that much. Feels too ‘1984’ for him, like Peter’s having to conform to society’s ideals because some people--mostly incompetent teachers--can’t stand hearing they’re wrong, or they’ve done bad stuff and don’t want to get confronted about it by annoying fourteen year olds with mops for hair.

Peter is still where Johnny left him when Johnny gets back to him, waiting  behind the building next door, no signs of having been mugged in the five minutes he was left alone in scary, terrifying, almost nighttime New York City. The sight is a weight off Johnny’s shoulders, even if seeing Peter worry his bottom lip between his teeth and try to rip off his hair with two nervous hands makes a knot twist in Johnny’s stomach.

"You can go home if you want to,” Johnny shrugs. He’s not going home tonight, but Peter doesn’t have to stay out with him.

"I want to stay with you,” Peter says, needy voice and needy eyes and needy everything. Peter’s a needy, annoying kid and he’s going to be eaten alive come September when they enter high school. Lucky for him, he’s got Johnny watching his back, something Johnny likes to mention every five minutes or so, just so they’re both clear on that.

"Come on then, let’s get off the street before someone bugs us,” Johnny grabs Peter’s arm and leads him down Seventh Avenue. He means to let go eventually, he knows Peter’s not gonna turn around and ditch him in the middle of Brooklyn, but he likes having Peter at arm’s reach, right where he’s safe and close.

"Where are we going?” Peter asks after ten minutes of following Johnny around. He doesn’t look too worried, shoulders set in a soft line and hands hidden inside his pockets.

"My mom keeps--kept her maiden apartment after the marriage. She went there every once in a while to paint and relax. I have a copy of the keys,” Johnny’s hand slips from Peter’s arm. In return, Peter walks a little closer to him, so that their shoulders bump every once in a while.

Nobody pays the two kids in black, ill-fitted suits too much attention, even though it’s clear one of them is holding a plastic bag with booze inside of it. That’s the great thing about New York City. Everyone’s trying to get through the day and carve their own path in the world, which means they’re too distracted to see anything besides what they want to see.

Today, nobody wants to see Johnny and Peter. Johnny’s alright with that. He figures Peter is too.

The apartment looks the same as it did the last time Johnny visited, only it’s now covered with a thin layer of dust that makes everything look old and forgotten. Johnny hates the sight of it immediately. He takes a big lungful of air once he’s inside and it smells just like his mom did, sweet, with the lightest tinge of coconut from her perfume.

Johnny runs to the nearest window, dumping the drinks on the couch without looking. He opens the window and shoves his head through so that he can take a starving breath. He doesn’t know how long he stays there with his head bowed in the wind, but he knows that he starts crying at some point, these big, ugly tears that run down his face and past the curve of his jaw. Eventually Peter takes him inside, giving him a hug before he closes the window.

"Sit,” Peter commands, pointing towards the couch.

Johnny does. He’s not in the right state to be fighting off instructions at the moment.

Peter gets them two clear glasses from the kitchen and a carton of orange of juice that’s probably already expired. Johnny doesn’t bother checking.

They fill the glasses half for half and take a drink at the same time. Johnny keeps the corner of his eyes firmly on Peter, waiting for the reaction he knows he’s going to get.

"This is awful,” Peter makes a face and gags, looking like he’s about to throw up.

Johnny can’t help laughing at the sight. "It’s cheap tequila called ‘Elquil Fiesta’ with orange juice. I don’t know what you expected.”

"Call me a dreamer, but I expected something that didn’t taste like radioactive horse piss,” Peter gives his glass a look of disgust but still takes another sip, drinking more this time. Johnny smiles and takes a large drink.

It does taste like radioactive horse piss, whatever that might taste like. For seven dollars each bottle, though, Johnny’s not complaining.

They drink in silence for a while, until Johnny feels the need to say something to clear the air.

"We’re going to high school next year, Peter. We’re gonna be high schoolers,” Johnny rests his head on the back of the couch and cleans his face with the back of his sleeve. He’s wanted to be in high school ever since Sue sneaked out to go to a party and later slipped into Johnny’s room to tell him about how cool it’d been.

"We’re going to be high school freshmen. We’re gonna be eaten alive,” Peter replies. He’s sitting cross-legged next to Johnny and he goes along with the conversation with no complaints, taking another sip of his drink.

"No, we won’t. We’ll be popular. Popular and good-looking. You just need to grow ten more inches and we’ll be good,” Peter glares at him and Johnny smirks in response, a toothy grin that shows off all his dimples and has won many hearts over the years. Peter doesn't look impressed.

"You’re a nerd, Johnny Storm. A secret nerd. Don’t think I don’t know that,” Peter takes a large sip of his drink, throwing his head back. The burned out Brooklyn lights from outside flash against his pale throat. The sight makes Johnny want to press his fingers against it and see if he can leave a mark, see if the skin there is as soft as it looks.

Fuck, he’s such a light-weight.

He finishes his drink and tops off his glass again, this time not bothering with the orange juice.

The silence in the room is comfortable, disturbed only by the sound of the neighbors upstairs moving around and the city outside refusing to go to sleep. Johnny lies down on the couch, throws himself back without a care in the world because he doesn’t care, not right now, not today. His head bounces on the fluffy material and he can’t drink in this position but that doesn't stop him from trying and getting tequila all over his white shirt.

Sue's going to kill him later when she sees the stains, but that’s later. Right now Johnny is trying to channel his inner dog self so he can use his tongue to drink.

He must look incredibly pathetic because Peter doesn’t even say anything, just watches him with his big eyes that are growing sleepy, half-closed and taking longer and longer with each blink.

"I don’t know what I'm going to do,” that’s Johnny’s voice. It sounds tiny and scared even to his own ears. Johnny didn’t even realized he’d spoken until the words started to loop around his ears. His voice sounds alien, unrecognizable. He hates it.

Peter crawls over to where Johnny’s sprawled and lies down over him with all the elegance of an obese octopus. His weight pushes the wind out of Johnny’s lungs, makes Johnny groan and feebly try to push Peter off him before he gives up and goes limp, lets his hands fall over Peter’s back and pretends he’s still trying to push his best friend away when he’s actually pulling him closer.

"Sue's going to ask for custody, and she’s gonna get it--”

"Yeah, I know that--”

"And then we’re gonna go to high school, and you’re gonna become popular, and I'm gonna grow ten inches. And it’s not going to be okay, but it is going to get better. Eventually. Not for a while now, but eventually.”

Johnny wants to make a joke about not knowing Peter was such a well of wisdom, but it’d be beyond poor taste. Of course Peter knows what he’s talking about. He’s been through the same, even if the age difference is hard to ignore.

Instead, Johnny says, "You need to become popular too, otherwise there’s no point in growing ten inches.”

Peter scoffs and hits him in the head. "You’re such a nerd.”

"Look who’s talking.”

And when Johnny falls asleep, Peter’s still a heavy weight over his body, and it’s the most comfortable he’ll feel in a long time.

* * *

High school is weird.

People know him as the adopted kid whose parents recently died, but Sue drives him to school everyday even though she has college and a job and everything else to worry about, and Peter sticks to him like glue and glares at everyone who so much as dares look at Johnny the wrong way, and Johnny ends shrugging off all the looks like they’re dirt on his shoulders because that’s the best he can do. It’s either that or punching people left and right, and Johnny’s not going down that path.

The talk about him dies down after a while. He stops being the weird kid and becomes the freshman who made it into the basketball team. It’s a far better title, even if Peter won’t shut up about it for like a month.

("You’re a freshman! Freshman never make it into any teams ever. You’re like Harry Potter. You’re the chosen one.”

"Shut up, Peter, oh my god. I'm not Harry Potter. I'm Sirius, you should know that,” Johnny replies. He’s not even a huge Harry Potter fan, but Peter made him read the books when he was twelve, so he knows his basics and he knows he’s definitely not Harry. Not good looking enough.)

Peter goes full on geek in two days like Johnny expected him to. He aces all his classes and talks too loud and is just _Peter_ , which some people take the wrong way, but Johnny’s not the older one for no reason alright. He made a promise to himself and to Peter a long time ago that he’d look after the both of them, and that’s what he does.

If he beats up two guys and gets detention for a month, the first and only time he ever gets it in high school, it’s worth it since no one messes with Peter after that.

But even after things stop being weird at school, they’re still kind of weird at home. The apartment feels too big and Sue's trying too hard to make things normal when they’re obviously not. Nevertheless, Johnny doesn’t say a word about it because he’s not going to be that kid who goes off the rails after his parents die. He’s not going to blame himself or yell at Sue when something goes wrong or say they weren’t his real family since he’s adopted because that’s all bullshit. It’s bullshit and Johnny hates it and he misses his mom and dad like hell, which is why he’s not going to let them down.

He’s going to do good in school and avoid the bad crowd, and he’s going to join the Parker’s for dinner every thursday night after Peter gives him maths tutoring and he’s going to pretend things are normal and fine even when they’re not, because things will get better eventually, and until then Johnny’s just going to fake it ‘till he makes it.

Peter was the one who told him that line.

Nerdy asshole always comes up with the best ones.

* * *

Don’t ask Johnny how, but out of the two of them, Peter is the first one to get a girlfriend.

Actually, feel free to ask him about it, since, technically, he is the one who introduced the two of them. It just felt right. She is absolutely gorgeous and a total nerd, Peter’s not so bad himself and he’s definitely doing well on the "Hey, Johnny, I know it’s three a.m, but I just read about this new, super boring scientific fact that I just have to tell you about,” so Johnny figured they are perfect for each other.

And they are perfect for each other. Peter starts spending less time with him goofing around and more time with Gwen making out and working, which doesn’t bother Johnny at all because he’s a good friend and he’s happy if Peter’s happy. Yeah. If sometimes Peter passes by him in the hall and doesn’t say anything to him because he’s too busy talking to his girlfriend, well, it’s not like Johnny is that desperate for his attention.

He has other friends, a new girlfriend of his own who he breaks up with a month later, basketball practice and extra time in the auto shop fixing up cars for extra credit and something fun to do that still counts as ‘school work’.

It’s fine. They’re growing up. They couldn’t continue stuck to each other’s sides like they have glue between them like they used to anyway. It’s time to move on.

And then Gwen gets early acceptance into a fancy european college, and she and Peter decide they’ll keep being friends, but that the relationship thing won’t work with so many miles between them. It’s a smart choice. Johnny thinks they’re both too mature for their age, but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead he picks up his old mantle as Peter’s best friend and takes him out for a night of heavy drinking to drown the sorrows. He doesn’t badmouth Gwen or try to get Peter to meet someone new. He isn’t that kind of guy, and Peter wouldn’t have liked that in the first place.

If Johnny goes out the next night and comes back home with a guy that looks just like a Peter, no one but him is any wiser, and he sure as hell thinking too hard about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**27th of July, 2013**

"Cell phone - check; boxers - check; two bottles of Mt. Dew - check. Alright, looks like I have everything,” Johnny sends off a quick text to Peter letting him know he’ll be there in thirty minutes tops and zips up his backpack, slinging it on his shoulders.

"You make the most random packing lists,” Sue says. She’s leaning against the door frame of Johnny’s bedroom, looking like this perfect mix of cool and composed parent ready to say goodbye to their little kid, off to college. Johnny finds the picture amusing, even if it’s wrong on all accounts.

"Your words, as always, wound me profusely,” Johnny grins at Sue, who grins back before she launches herself at him and gives him a big hug.

"I can’t believe this, my little brother off on his first road trip. You’re all grown up. Mom and dad would be so proud.”

Johnny ducks his head. The words sting him, as any mentions of his parents do, but it’s a good kind of sting. The kind that reminds him he’s still alive and he’s got a lot to live for. "Thank you,” Johnny says, quietly.

Sue cleans off a tear and looks away for a second to compose herself. Her hands run through her blonde hair and slide it into a ponytail in one quick motion, a nervous habit she acquired years ago. She looks like mom did. Practical and ready to fight the world.

"You’ve got everything you need?” Sue holds Johnny’s shoulders with both her hands and gives him a searching look.

"I’ve got everything I need,” Johnny nods.

"Okay, now remember: no prostitutes, no drugs and don’t get caught drunk. I am so not picking your ass out of jail, little brother.”

Johnny gasps, scoffing at sue. "It’s a road trip, not a bachelor party. Who do you take me for?”

"I take you for an eighteen-year-old who’s about to go on a trip alone with his best friend,” Sue says, laughing as Johnny escapes her grasps and walks to the door. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she yells when Johnny’s outside waiting for the elevator.

"So, everything’s game then?” Johnny asks. He’s still laughing at Sue's expression when he slips into the elevator.

They’re taking Johnny’s beautiful car for the trip. It’s a 1967 Chevrolet Corvette in red, convertible and still in pristine condition. It used to be his dad’s. Johnny took over the mantle in taking care of it after dad passed away. He’s remodeled the car a bit since, got a new cylinder for the engine and new leather covering for the seats.

The car’s a real beauty, and to say Johnny loves it doesn’t begin to cover it.

He brushes his hand over the frame, inspects his most prized possession from every angle before he opens up the trunk and throws his backpack inside, taking out one of the Mt. Dew for something to drink on the road. Once inside the car, Johnny grins at his own reflection in the door mirror. He looks great as always, he’s got everything he needs and he’s about to go on a road trip to Miami with his best friend.

Shit like this is what makes life worth it.

The drive to Peter’s place takes longer than it should thanks to traffic, and by the time Johnny gets there Peter’s already outside waiting for him, with Aunt May and Uncle Ben keeping him company on the front porch.

"Mrs. Parker, looking wonderful as always. Mr. Parker, caught the Red Sox last weekend?” The Parkers give him a warm hello as always, Aunt May kissing him on the cheek and Uncle Ben pulling him in for a hug.

Peter takes his backpack to the car while Johnny takes a couple of plastic bags full of food Aunt May insists they have. She’s probably worried they’ll starve to death on the road or something. Johnny could argue that he and Peter are both mature, responsible young adults, but free cookies are free cookies.

Peter raises a single judgemental eyebrow at him when they’re both loading things in the trunk. "It’s been, what? Four years? I think you can stop pretending you like the Red Sox to make Uncle Ben happy.”

"What can I say?” Johnny asks, walking backwards as he talks to Peter. "They’ve grown on me.”

"Now you two be safe out there. It’s a long journey, so take as many breaks as you need and switch places often so you don’t tire yourselves. And don’t forget to give your sister a hug from me next time you see her, Johnny” Aunt May fixes the lapels of Johnny’s coat, lingering for a second as she gives Johnny a quick hug.

"Thank you, ma’am. I will,” Johnny says, lingering in the hug as well.

"You’ve got everything you need?” Uncle Ben asks him.

"Yes, sir.”

"Alright then, you two have fun, and don’t do anything too stupid,” Uncle Ben hugs Johnny again, patting him in the back twice when they pull away.

Johnny’s heart tugs at the sight of these wonderful people worrying about him, but he doesn’t say anything, figures he doesn’t need to ruin the moment by getting all sappy out of nowhere. The Parkers know how much Johnny cares for them, and Johnny knows how much they care for him too. They’ve become part of his family over the years, giving him advice and help whenever he needed and, on one memorable evening, Johnny even got to hear the talk from Uncle Ben.

Now that… that was awkward. Like, really awkward. Like let’s not even go there or go close to there or even think about going there awkward.

Johnny lingers back as he watches Peter give his aunt and uncle a last goodbye hug, and then they’re off, the top of the convertible down as they leave New York City in the rearview mirror.

"We’re doing it, Pete. We’re going on a road trip to Miami. Oh man, it feels like we’re in a movie or something,” Johnny tightens his grip on the steering wheel, laughing to himself.

He and Peter had always talked about going on a road trip together, but that’s all it’d been for as long as Johnny remembered. Just something they talked about, a far away dream. Now the dream has become reality and they’re going on a road trip to Miami, where they’ll stay for a week. It’s kind of hard to believe this is all happening, except it totally is. Johnny has Peter’s ipod with three different ‘roadtrip!!!’ playlists to prove it.

"I can. Dude, you spent all night texting me about it!” Peter complains, laughing at or with Johnny, who knows.

"Well excuse me for being excited, _dude_ ,” Johnny punches Peter in the arm, not taking his eyes off the road. "You sound like Flash when you say that.”

"I'm taking that as an insult,” Peter says, making Johnny laugh harder.

"You should,” he says. They’re being kind of childish. Flash did become less of a jerk this senior year, but that didn’t excuse the other three years where he constantly acted like a dick to anyone smaller than him.

Not that any of that matters anymore. High school is done and over with it. Ahead of them is the open road and a long, relaxing summer with no exams and project deadlines looming ahead. After that it’s college for both of them.

Well, it’s basically college for Peter. Johnny’s going too, but only because he gets a scholarship for being an orphan apparently, and he can spend the time there doing something productive while he figures out what he wants to do with his life. He already knows it won’t have anything to do with college and that he’ll have better chances with something that can actually grab his attention, that’s something fun and challenging. He just has to figure out what that something is.

Peter, though, Peter’s got it mostly figured out by now, and Johnny couldn’t be prouder. His little boy is going to Columbia on a full scholarship. He’s going to study genetics and become a hot shot scientist. This road trip of theirs is partly in celebration for having graduated with all their limbs intact, a joke that would be funnier if Peter hadn’t almost blown up the school twice, and partly to celebrate the fact that Peter is a goddamn genius.

"Stop looking at me like that,” Peter groans, looking to the side through the window.

"Like what?”

"Like I'm the second coming of Jesus. I got accepted into college, it’s no big deal,” Peter says as he scratches his nose.

"No, it is, in fact, a very big deal. You got accepted to Columbia on a full scholarship, Pete. It is a huge fucking deal,” Johnny says.

He wants to grab Peter’s head and make Peter look at him in the eye to make sure he gets it, make sure he realizes that this is really that big and Johnny is so proud of him he could cry. Seriously, he could. He settles with putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder instead.

"Thanks,” Peter’s voice is quieter than usual, but he’s smiling, just a little, so Johnny’s taking this conversation as a personal victory.

"You’re welcome. Now come on, put on ‘road trip #2’. That’s the one with Avicii, right?”

"You made that one, so you’d know,” Peter says, but he puts the music on, picking Johnny’s favorite song. Johnny doesn’t waste a second before he starts singing along at the top of his lungs. "Oh god, are you going to be like this the whole trip? I should have known.”

"We’re going on a road trip. We have to sing obnoxiously to obnoxious songs, it’s mandatory,” Johnny gives Peter a wounded look, and together they transform the next verse into a duet, both of them completely off-key and not caring in the slightest.

They’re dividing the drive down to Miami in three parts, with six hours of driving each day divided by the two of them. They could do the trip in two days if they stretched it, but Johnny wants to have fun, see the landscape, enjoy the ride down to Miami as much as he’ll enjoy Miami itself. This way they also get to choose where they’ll be stopping, so there’s no sleeping on the side of the road because they’re too tired to keep driving and there’s not a motel in sight for miles.

Alright, so that’s unlikely to happen, but Aunt May likes to share her worries with other people and making sure they become their worries too. It’s her superpower.

They take the 95 down until Richmond, where they stop for the day. Peter finds them somewhere they can stay with his phone, so they only have to drive around for awhile before they get a room at a nice motel with view of the river.

They eat out for dinner and Peter documents everything with his camera, which means later they’ll get the pleasure of skimming through hundreds pictures of squirrels, buildings and the occasional shot of the two of them together whenever someone passes the infamous ‘Peter Parker: Are You Worthy of The Camera?’ test. Peter has trust issues with that thing.

“Johnny! Johnny, look at me,” Peter asks. Johnny turns without thinking, getting hit in the face with a flash of light while his mouth is full of apple pie and ice cream. Son of a bitch.

"Why do you always have to take pictures of me when I'm eating?” Johnny complains, swallowing down the remains of his dinner.

"I'm making a collection. Johnny Storm in his natural habit,” Peter makes a half-circle in the sky with one hands, as if he’s drawing out the title. "I’ll say they’re metaphors on the brevity of life and sell them for millions when you’re famous.”

"Well, you’re gonna need to make money for your research somehow, and I’d rather you get it from this than from selling your body. Don’t do it, Peter, there is more to you than your ass,” Johnny takes Peter’s face with one hand and stares right into his eyes before he breaks into a laughing fit.

"I see you have not let go of your childish high school behavior, Jonathan,” Peter says, laughing along with Johnny as he takes another picture.

"I'm keeping you young, Parker.”

They take a walk in the downtown area before calling it an early night. There’s no point in going out for a drink when they’ll have time to do that and more in Miami. The next day they take the 95 again, this time driving all the way down to Savannah, where Peter chokes on a burrito and Johnny loses a dance battle.

"Why did you do that? You’re a terrible dancer!” Peter has his camera focused on Johnny’s face and he’s recording their walk of shame away from the park, where a guy wearing a large sweater with the word ‘SWAG’ handed Johnny’s ass to him a few minutes ago.

"I know! But he was like, looking at me all macho and stuff, daring me to beat him. I couldn’t not dance,” Johnny says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"This is straight out of a musical, you know that, right?”

"It would be if I’d won,” Johnny groans and hides his face in his hands. “Oh god, how bad was that? Was it as bad as it felt?”

Peter gives Johnny a pitying look, patting him in the back. "I'm afraid it was probably worse. You looked like me when I’m dancing at a club, and I was named ‘whitest dancer’ in our yearbook.”

"Aw, man.”

"Don’t worry, I’ll edit this to make you look like an amazing dancer when I post it on Youtube.”

Johnny shakes his head and laughs, because of course Peter would do that for him. They’ll both look at the video later and laugh, knowing only the two of them know the truth behind it.

The drive next day from Savannah to Miami takes over nine hours. By the time they get to their hotel in Miami Beach, they’re both exhausted, although they still have enough energy to take a walk around.

“Should we hit up a club?” Johnny asks as Peter photographs the beach.

Peter spins around, looking at Johnny as if he’s crazy. “One, it’s a monday night; two, I’d rather not be too hungover during this trip to be able to enjoy it; and three, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Peter takes a picture of Johnny just as Johnny starts to laugh.

“Yeah, I am. I know the rules, no heavy drinking until the last day so we’re actually sober enough to enjoy this week,” Johnny makes a cross on his chest and tries to put on his best serious face.

“Oh, the sincerity. It just drips off you,” Peter rolls his eyes at Johnny and continues to photograph the boardwalk, leaving Johnny to run after him.

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a blurr. Johnny gets a couple of numbers at the beach they hit up and doesn’t call any of them. The girls--and guys, twice, but those he gets in private--are all very nice, but none of their faces register and it’s easier to throw away the pieces of paper than it is finding more about them. Not to mention that this week is not about Johnny scoring some, it’s about him and Peter having the time of their lives together in Miami Beach. Kind of a dream come true, and Johnny’s not about to waste it by ditching Peter to meet up with someone else.

Their last night in Miami is different, though. Johnny’s been asking around all week about the hottest clubs (“I like to be well-informed, Peter. We can’t get all our reviews from Yelp.”) and come Friday night he has a list of clubs they can check out. Their fake IDs leave a lot to be desired, but they’re both dressed up to the nines and look damn good if Johnny can say so.

Johnny doubts getting in will be an issue. Peter doesn’t share the same opinion.

“What if we get arrested? On our last night here? Uncle Ben would never let me forget it. He won’t, you know he won’t. Ten years from now he’ll be mentioning it every time he asks me to do something and then I’ll have to do whatever he wants. Oh god, what if he wants foot rubs?”

They both shudder at the mental image Peter’s words create.

“Peter, it will be fine. We’re both hot--” Peter makes a high-pitched noise, “and there’s no reason why they won’t let us in. And if we do get barred, we’ll just go to another club. It will be fine. I promise.”

Johnny grabs Peter’s shoulders to look him in the eye. “You with me?”

Peter’s eyes skitter all over their hotel room before they finally land on Johnny’s. He weaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if he’s resigned himself to a life of partaking in whatever crazy adventure Johnny’s in the mood for this week, and this is simply another inevitability of life. “I’m with you.”

Johnny pats him on the back with too much force, making Peter groan in complaint, before he pulls Peter into a hug. “That’s my man!”

There’s a line outside the first club they go to, Bamboo, but it disappears pretty quickly and in no time they’re inside, the bouncer giving them a superficial look before he waves them inside.

Johnny turns around and gives Peter his ‘I told you so look’, which consists of two raised eyebrows and his most annoying smirk. Peter sticks his tongue out at him, showing off his incredible levels of maturity.

The music in the club is so loud it enters Johnny’s ears and travels all the way down and up his body in one continuous movement, settling in his chest after it’s done. The lights flash on and off, on and off, beams of neon that move nonstop all over the dancefloor. The first thing Johnny does as soon as he’s taken a good look around is head straight to the bar, where he orders two shots for each of them.

“To us!” Johnny lifts both of his shots and knocks the glass against Peter’s matching drinks.

Peter shakes his head, but he’s laughing and throwing his head back as he downs the shots without a single complaint, so Johnny figures he’s enjoying himself so far.

“That’s my boy,” he says, resting an arm over Peter’s shoulders and pulling his best friend close to him. Two years ago, Peter’s head would have bumped against Johnny’s chest, giving Johnny the perfect angle to mess with his hair. He’s hitten a growth spurt since then, however, and now his head bumps against Johnny’s, their foreheads knocking against each other.

“Hey,” Peter pushes Johnny away, but he keeps a hand wrapped around the bottom of Johnny’s polo so he can’t go far. “Come on, let’s dance.”

Both Johnny and Peter are terrible, simply catastrophic dancers, something Johnny blames entirely on Peter. He remembers being a decent dancer when he was a kid, but at some point he met Peter, whose bad dancing skills are contagious and downright illegal. It was all downhill from then one.

Peter’s dancing moves are also fun, though, no doubt about that.

The club is divided into three separate dance floors, and Peter leads them to the one with most people. They’re currently playing brazilian pop music in there that nobody can sing along with, but everyone can dance to. Johnny feels freed, something about the chaotic swarm of bodies, the thrumming music and the alcohol in his bloodstream makes him feel like the epitome of peace. He’s able to dance with his best friend and not worry about how he looks or who he’s trying to impress for once, and it’s an awesome feeling.

Johnny had a plan when he entered the club. Not a very detailed plan, mind you, it was more like a rough idea of how he wanted the night to go. The most important part was getting Peter tipsy, but not drunk, so that he was relaxed all night and would go easily when Johnny pushed him into talking to someone. It was a good plan, simple, effortless to put into practice. It’d get Peter talking to new people, and finally hit the rebound stage in his breakup with Gwen.

Only now, Johnny didn’t want to push Peter out of his comfort zone and into the arms of some girl he’d never see again. This was their last night in Miami, and Johnny’s brain has suddenly decided they should spend it together, the two of them only, everyone else be damned.

With that decision settled, Johnny gets a little closer to Peter, lets the crowd around them push them against each other. Peter seems only happy to have Johnny closer, smiling and throwing his arms in the air.

It’s a fun night. They dance without a care for at least two hours. Talking over the loud music is near impossible, but they manage anyway.

“Are you singing? Since when do you know Portuguese?” Peter asks when he catches Johnny belting alongside the music. He has to lean closer for Johnny to hear him, ends up speaking right into Johnny’s ear.

“I’m not. I’m just shouting random noises,” Johnny replies, smiling too wide when he makes Peter laugh.

Peter’s laugh is one of the most amazing sights Johnny’s ever seen. He throws himself fully into it every time. His head falls back, the corners of his eyes crinkle and his whole body seems to shake with pleasure. If Peter’s bad dancing skills are contagious, then so is his gorgeous laughter, and Johnny loves it, almost as much as he loves being the one to make Peter laugh.

Peter, himself, is gorgeous. He’s always been a little bit gawky, but that’s not--it’s just not what Johnny sees. Johnny doesn’t see the awkward and the weird Peter’s always talking about. He only sees Peter and it’s--it’s a good sight.

It’s possible, it’s indeed very much possible, that Johnny is drunk right now, and that Peter is right there, laughing and dancing impossibly close, as if there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Maybe that’s the truth. Johnny hopes it is, because it certainly is for him.

The next time someone bumps into him, Johnny doesn’t fight the push. Instead he rolls with it, falls into Peter’s space and grabs Peter’s hips to steady himself. Peter doesn’t push him away, not even when Johnny starts to dance against him, which gives Johnny the confidence to take the next move and kiss Peter.

It’s a crappy kiss, all things considered. Peter takes ages to kiss back, and when he finally does it’s like they’re both in a haze, moving through honey at a glacial pace. Johnny tries to pull Peter even closer, if it’s possible, so that their bodies are flushed together and there’s not an inch of empty space between them.

Peter’s breath smells of absinthe from their shots, and Johnny catches himself chasing it when they pull up for air. His eyes immediately zero in on Peter’s lips, which are red and slick with spit. Johnny wants to bite them for hours to see how red they can get. Peter’s eyes look a little crazy too; they’re blown wide and unfocused, all from one kiss.

Johnny starts to wonder what else he can do to Peter and the list stretches to infinity, every item crazier and more enticing than the one before. Johnny would be lying if he said he’d never thought about Peter like this before, because he has, of course he has. Peter’s gorgeous and Johnny would be an idiot not to see it. Only, Johnny had never realized up until now just how much he wants this. How much he wants to see Peter’s chest fall and rise too quickly and his whole body flush, wants to see him come against a bathroom wall before he falls to his knees, wants to see him moan and let go like he never does, all because of Johnny.

He wants it so bad.

He goes in for another kiss at the same time someone bumps into them and spills their drink on Peter’s shirt. Just like that the moment is gone, the bubble they were in bursts and they move away from each other as if they’ve been hit by a bucket full of cold water.

“I need to--I need to go,” Peter says, his eyes are bugged out, frantic, and before Johnny can say or do anything else he’s out of sight, running towards god knows where.

“Shit,” Johnny runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes for a second as he tries to get his shit together.

He circles the club a couple of times, checks the bathrooms and the street outside, but Peter’s nowhere to be seen. Eventually, Johnny gives up and goes back to their hotel room, where Peter’s bed is empty and covered in clothes he tried out earlier when they were getting dressed.

Johnny’s not even sure what he wants to say to Peter. That he’s sorry? That he wants to kiss him again? He’s not sure what he wants, much less what Peter wants. All he knows is that he’s not going to ruin the most important friendship he has for sex or whatever. He’s going to follow Peter’s lead and do whatever Peter wants and it will be fine, it will be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.

“I’m too drunk for this,” Johnny throws himself on his bed, stripping away his polo with his head shoved against his pillows, a task that’s already difficult when you’re sober and downright impossible when you’re drunk, but Johnny manages to do it anyway. He always does.

He means to stay up waiting for Peter, but everything’s still a little--okay, a lot--fuzzy around the edges, and before he knows it he’s soundly asleep, the ringing in his ears a distant reminder of what he should be doing.

* * *

When Johnny wakes up, Peter is back in his bed, soundly asleep.

Johnny gets dressed and goes down to the beach, where he nurses his hangover with a bottle of water and gets a sunburn.

At some point Peter shows up and immediately starts talking about sea lions. Johnny takes it up as his cue to not mention what happened last night and it doesn’t--it doesn’t _feel_ right, as ridiculous as that sounds, but Johnny doesn’t know what else to do so he rolls with it, lets Peter show him a bunch of Youtube videos before they go back to their hotel and start packing.

They leave a little after four, their bags in the trunk of their car, a little heavier than they were when they started this trip, their thoughts about Miami shifting from the present to the past.

The first night they stop in Jacksonville, still in Florida; the second in Rocky Mouth, near the edge of North Carolina. By the third night they’re back in New York and they sleep in separate bedrooms for the first time in over a week.

It’s good to be back home, even if it doesn’t feel as good as it could.

* * *

Sue's boyfriend--Reed, total genius, even bigger nerd, Peter has a huge nerd crush on him already and he’s only met the guy once--offers Johnny a job as a driver three months after college starts.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to take his offer. He’s not sure why Reed, who’s currently finishing up a doctorate and teaching at NYU in his spare time, needs a driver, but it beats staying in college for another day doing nothing and unlearning things, and that’s all that matters.

Sue and Aunt May are mad at him for dropping out, Uncle Ben is disappointed and Peter is in this mix of mad and disappointed, as if he can’t figure out his own emotions. Johnny gets mad at all of them in return because this is not their choice, it’s his, and if he wants to drop out, something he was bound to do anyway, he might as well do it sooner rather than later.

College isn’t for him. It’s for people like Sue and Peter and Reed, the brainy people, the ones who can sit still for more than one hour. Johnny’s more of an action guy. He’s always looking for the next thing to do or beat. That’s just who he is, and a job as a driver for a crazy scientist is a perfect match for his personality.

Everyone’s going to get over themselves eventually. This is for the best, really.

* * *

The explosion is unexpected.

* * *

There’s light, too much light, blinding and searing hot. It perforates his skin and reaches deep inside his bones where it burns hotter and hotter until he can’t breathe, can’t open his eyes or move a muscle or _think_. Every single one of his nerves is on fire, electrified and stunned and making his muscles spasm and tense relentlessly.

It hurts, it hurts so fucking much.

Everything _hurts_ and Johnny is either burning alive or he’s already dead, because there’s no way this is anything but Death knocking on his doorstep.

* * *

And then there’s fire.

Around him and inside of him, uncoiling from every one of his cells, bursting and calling to him like a siren. There’s fire everywhere and it doesn’t hurt, which is like, the craziest thing that’s ever happened to Johnny, but also very, very cool.

Like, extremely cool. Like, “Holy shit, I’m on fire. I _am_ fire.”

“Johnny, you need to calm down,” Reed has both his hands held up in the universal ‘I’m trying to stay calm not to scare you, but you need to calm the fuck down right now or I’ll do it for you’ gesture. Everyone else is looking at Johnny with a mixture of fear and wonder in their eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Johnny closes his eyes and focuses on getting the fire to disappear. It’s a weird feeling, like being too full one second and empty the next. “That was cool, though, right?”

Reed has already moved to one of the various machines scattered in the lab, ready to do science and change the world or whatever. Ben Grimm rolls his eyes at Johnny and doesn’t say anything, making Sue the only person who replies.

“Yes, Johnny. That was very cool.”

“Come on, Sue. We have powers now. Powers!” Johnny laughs and does a little dance in celebration, making Sue laugh with him.

“Which we need to study before we get too excited about.”

Johnny pulls Sue into a hug to shush her.

“Don’t get too excited, kid. We’re getting rid of them soon,” Ben says. Johnny glares at him over Sue's shoulder, but chooses not to reply. Just because Ben’s not happy with the change doesn’t mean everyone else feels the same.

* * *

Turns out the changes to their DNA are irreversible. Who knew?

Ben gets over it eventually, and together they form the Fantastic 4, an international superhero team. The Baxter building becomes their headquarters, Reed makes superhero costumes that adapt to each of their powers and they each get their very own superhero name.

Johnny becomes the Human Torch, and he enters a new chapter in his life with his right foot on fire and the other already in the air.

Peter’s going to be _so_ jealous when he finds out.

* * *

Uncle Ben is murdered a month after the Four get their powers, before Johnny got the chance to head down to the Parkers himself and tell them all about it.

The funeral is a funeral, which is to say it’s dark and depressing and Johnny hates every second of it, keeps twitching in his seat and looking at the door as if that will speed up time. A couple of people shoot him dirty looks, but Johnny ignores them. They don’t get it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be there for Uncle Ben, it’s the precise opposite. Johnny wants to be there for him too much, wants to ask Reed for a time machine and somehow fix this, somehow stop one more person from disappearing from his life.

And Peter’s, of course. Johnny’s barely seen Peter all day. He’s hiding, running away the second Aunt May takes her eyes off him. Johnny would bet all his money Peter feels the same way Johnny does about all this, except he feels it more. Feels it bigger. More painful.

Pain is like a dark hole in your chest. It’s this all-consuming, terrifying thing you can’t escape from, can’t push or pull away, can’t do anything about until it goes away on its own, eventually.

And it does go away. Eventually, it gets better. Not for a while now, but eventually. It’s funny how Johnny’s never forgotten those words.

After the funeral is over, and they’re back at Aunt May’s house to talk or whatever, Johnny goes searching for Peter. He sees in their future two bottles of vodka and whatever else Peter might want. He doesn’t see Peter being nowhere to be found, no one knowing where he went and him not picking up his phone, but that’s what ends up happening.

Sue drinks with Johnny instead. It’s not the same, but it’s something.

* * *

It’s hard to get hold of Peter after Uncle Ben’s death. He’s always too busy with college, making sure all his grades stay up so he doesn’t lose his scholarship and his new job as an amateur photographer for the Daily Bugle for some extra money. The few times he and Johnny arrange to grab a quick bite, Peter cancels half of them on last minute notice, often when Johnny’s already at the restaurant or coffee shop waiting for him. The other half, Peter always has to leave early because he remembers halfway through the meal some crazy deadline he needs to meet for work or school.

Johnny doesn’t resent Peter for any of it, obviously. Doing so would make him the worst best friend in the world, and Johnny actually prides himself on being a semi-decent friend. However, you can’t expect him to keep trailing after Peter like a lost puppy. It’s not practical, for one. Johnny has a life of his own he needs to attend to, one that routinely involves saving the world from nutjobs and aliens, possibly both. He also has a little something called dignity, and trailing after people, even if that person is Peter, puts some serious dents on it.

“Could you sound any douchier?” Sue asks him after Johnny’s done explaining why he and Peter don’t hang out anymore.

Johnny frowns and flips her off. She’s being unfair. It’s not like he wants them to stop spending time together, but it’s hard being the one always running after the other person. Johnny’s never been in this position before, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

It’s during harsh times like these where Johnny is most thankful for his powers. Not only are they super cool, super useful and super amazing overall, they’re also a good distraction. You can’t think about the fact that you haven’t seen your best friend in two months when you’re out fighting Dr. Doom for the fourth time that month.

Well, you can, but then you slam face-first into one of the Doombots that’s around shooting stuff and being a general annoyance, and Johnny’s not making that mistake twice. The first time had been bad enough with Spider-Man there to laugh at him.

“Oh my god! How did that happen? Are you okay? You flew right into it. Holy shit,” Spider-Man said as he dropped down next to Johnny.

Johnny shook his head as if to clear away any metal bits that had stuck to him. He kind of lost control of his flight after he slammed into the flying trash can, which sent him spiralling down for a good thirty seconds before he got it together and made an emergency landing.

“Shut up,” Johnny replied, clearing some non-existent dirt off his shoulders. “As if this has never happened to you.”

“Slamming into a Doombot? Nope, never did it. Can’t say the same for a couple of buildings, though, if that makes it any better.”

Johnny glared at the kid, and there was no way it wasn’t a kid behind the mask. The voice was off, deep and kind of gravely, but he’d probably been hit in the throat during puberty or something. Everything else about him made Johnny immediately think ‘kid’. He was uber thin, almost as tall as Johnny, flexible like crazy, which must be fun in more private settings, and he had got a mouth on him that could give controversial TV presenters a run for their money. This was to say he was sarcastic, loud, extremely irritating and the funniest superhero Johnny has met so far.

If he weren’t so obviously a kid--and an annoying one at that--and if Johnny were a little younger and wide-eyed, Johnny would probably have a crush on him.

“You talk too much, kid. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I’m not a kid. You’re only like, three months older than me,” Spider-Man said. He stomped his feet on the ground as his voice went all weird for a second. If that wasn’t the most childish thing Johnny’s ever seen, he doesn’t know what was.

“Whatever,” Johnny waved him off and flew back into the air. Dr. Doom wasn’t going to fight himself.

After that unfortunate meeting, Johnny seems to start running into Spider-Man more and more often. It’s almost like the less time he spends with Peter, the more he spends with Spider-Man. If he’s honest, it kind of makes him feel a little guilty. He spends hours flying around the city and exploring every nook, crook and corner with Spider-Man, time he should be spending it with his best friend. As things are right now, though, that time will more likely be spent trying to do stuff with Peter than actually doing it.

“You look depressed,” Spider-Man tells him one day.

Johnny’s on the roof of the Baxter Building, sitting at the edge with his legs swinging in the wind. From here he has one of the best available views of the New York skyline. He could get a better one if he flew up, of course, but Johnny’s not in the mood to fly right now. He’s not in the mood to do much of anything to be honest.

He was contemplating the thought of going back inside and taking a nap when Spider-Man crawled over the wall and sat next to him.

“I feel depressed,” Johnny says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Spider-Man seems to hesitate before he asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

Johnny turns his head to look at him. The kid is looking down at his hands, which he seems to be unable to control from the way his fingers flex and and twitch non-stop. Peter does that too when he’s nervous, although Johnny’s not quite sure what Spider-Man’s nervous about.

“I haven’t seen my best friend in two months,” Johnny says, adding as an afterthought, “Three today, actually.”

Another moment of hesitation before Spider-Man speaks. “Are they away or something?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Just busy with work and college. He’s like, super crazy smart so he got a full scholarship to Columbia, but now he has to work his ass off to maintain it, and with everything else we just never see each other anymore. I’m really proud of him though.”

“I’m sure he--” Spider-Man coughs and Johnny wonders what that feels like with the mask. Probably gross as hell, “wants to spend time with you, too, and he’s just busy like you said.”

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, that’s all. I miss him and his weird, nerd jokes about the periodic table.”

“I know what that’s like,” Spider-Man says, making Johnny glance at him.

“Yeah?” he asks, wanting to see if Spider-Man will take the bait.

Even though he and Spider-Man have known each other for a while now, Johnny doesn’t actually know anything about Spider-Man. He knows Spider-Man’s funny, smart and has superpowers not all that related to spiders (“If you call yourself Spider-Man you should be able to control spiders, I’m just saying,” Johnny says. Spider-Man flips him in the bird, “I’ll have you know that’s spider prejudice and I’m not having any of it.”). Other than that, though, Johnny’s drawing blanks on all fields. He’s even asked around a bit, but of everyone, he seems to be the one to know Spider-Man the best, and he honestly doesn’t know that much.

He’s hoping Spider-Man will share something--anything--with him, but the kid doesn’t seem to be on the same boat as Johnny’s, since all he does in reply to Johnny’s question is shrug and say, “Yeah.”

Johnny waits patiently for him to say something else, not wanting to push any buttons. Spider-Man looks like he’s decided the conversation is over, however, and he’s slinking off the next minute with some goodbye words Johnny doesn’t pay attention to.

This is impossible. Johnny actually feels disappointed that Spider-Man didn’t want to share anything about his private life with Johnny, which is such a ridiculous thing to be upset about Johnny wants to punch himself for even feeling it. Of course Spider-Man doesn’t have to share anything with him. He has a private life he wants to keep private, probably has a girlfriend and parents he needs to protect.

Johnny should do the smart thing and leave the kid alone, but it’s hard. He missed having someone to talk to about nothing and everything, and with Peter so busy, Spider-Man had kind of become the next best thing.

He’d been a pretty close ‘next best thing’ too. He’s got the same kind of dry witted humor as Peter, same passion for nerdy subjects, same kind of cheerfulness that made it easy to talk about whatever for hours. He and Peter would get on like a house on fire if they ever met. It’d be like staring at a mirror for them, they even had the same height, come to think of it.

Johnny will have to introduce them to each other if he ever has the chance.

* * *

It takes Johnny another five days, three hours and four minutes to make the connection. When he finally does, it feels like he’s been hit by a bullet train at full speed because holy shit, holy mother of god, holy fucking everything.

Peter and Spider-Man have the same kind of humor, same interests, same way of speaking. They have the same height and build, same fucking everything Johnny can think of. They have the same everything, and either Peter has a long lost twin he forgot to tell Johnny about, or they’re the same people.

Peter is Spider-Man. Spider-Man is Peter.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Now that Johnny sees it, he can’t unsee it. This explains so much. The sudden disappearances, how easy it is to talk to Spider-Man and how he seems to know Johnny better than anyone else. And those crazy pictures of Spider-Man Peter kept getting for the the Bugle that he claimed were just ‘lucky shots’, and the way Spider-Man guessed Johnny’s favorite food in one try. Granted, lasagna was a popular dish, but still. It all made sense now.

It made sense and it made Johnny get angry, since what the hell? His best friend is a superhero and he didn’t tell Johnny? Who even does that? After Johnny got his powers, Peter was literally the first person he called to tell. It isn’t much to ask him to return the favour.

Johnny spends the rest of the day trying to figure out what to do. He can’t talk to anyone, because this is obviously a secret and mad or not, he’s not an asshole. The smart thing to do is checking with Peter or Spider-Man before he does anything else. There’s a small chance Johnny might be wrong, and he should give both his friends the benefit of the doubt before getting angry.

And Johnny _will_ be angry. The more he thinks about Peter being Spider-Man, the more he wants to march up to Peter’s house and drag an answer out of him. This whole thing makes no sense whatsoever, and Johnny’s having a hard time digesting it.

Sleeping on it doesn’t help, and neither does thinking further about it since it only makes him more frustrated. Johnny doesn’t want to show up at the Parkers’ unannounced, but he doesn’t want to call Peter to ask either. This is something he needs to do face to face.

In the end, the decision is taken away from Johnny when he runs into Spider-Man a day later.

They’re fighting… Who are they fighting again? Some kid with a freeze gun, name started with Cold or something. Cool Feet? Something like that.

Spider-Man shows up to help halfway through. Johnny’s too busy avoiding the blasts from the freeze gun and saving his ass from turning into the Titanic to talk to him, even though that’s pretty much the only thought in his his head the entire time. He spends more time watching at Spider-Man jump around than he does watching the fight.

In his defense, Spider-Man is always a sight to be seen. All of his movements are smooth and confident, as if there’s nothing complicated about shooting a web at a building forty feet away and sailing through the air like he weighs less than a feather.

Johnny has no intention of calling out Spider-Man during the fight, benefit of the doubt and that whole shebang, but when one of Cold Feet’s rays hits the web Peter is hanging on and it snaps, sending Peter free falling onto the ground from seventy feet in the air, the scream seems to come out on its own.

“Peter!”

Spider-Man twists in the air like a cat, making it look almost easy, and fixes another web on a nearby building, effectively stopping his fall. He hits the building with a bit too much force, and Johnny’s flying over immediately. As he’s about to reach Spider-Man’s side and ask if he’s okay, Spider-Man takes one good look at him and starts running in the opposite direction.

Alright, so that pretty much confirms Johnny’s suspicions.

Johnny follows him, because what else is he supposed to do? Let Peter go without explaining himself and telling Johnny what the hell he’s doing? Johnny is so not letting that happen.

They play a game of cat and mouse for ten minutes, until Johnny somehow manages to corner Peter in an alley off one of the small side roads.

“Peter! I know it’s you, ok? You can stop running,” He shouts, voice charged with so much anger and rage Johnny can almost physically feel it, this heavy thing that rolls out of his mouth and crashes against the walls and the ground and everything else between him and Peter fucking Parker aka Spider-Man.

Peter stops running and turns around. His shoulders drop in defeat but he doesn’t take his mask off, doesn’t even lift his eyes off the floor until Johnny’s marching up to him and standing right in his face, all justified anger and barely contained fire. “You’re Spider-Man,” Johnny says.

“Yes,” Peter says, and of course, of fucking course it’s Peter. Johnny feels like an idiot for not connecting all the dots before. Everything fits except for one thing.

“What’s with the voice?”

“Modulator. Got it after the first time I bumped into you and rest of the Four in costume.”

Johnny nods. That makes sense. Smart too, but that’s no surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny asks, finally voicing the million dollar question.

Peter tries to take a step back, already looking away as he tries to come up with an excuse or some other bullshit, but Johnny’s having none of it. He grabs Peter’s arm and holds him in place, not afraid to use his full force to make sure Peter stays and talks to him. Physically, it’s a useless gesture, since Spider-Man is far stronger than Johnny, but Johnny’s hoping Peter won’t go that far.

“You had your thing with the Four and I didn’t want to bother you, and then everything started to snowball and grow bigger and I didn’t know how say it. I’m sorry.”

It’s a shitty excuse, it’s the shittiest excuse ever, in fact, and it only serves to make Johnny angrier. “Yeah, well you should have told me, Peter. I’m your best friend!”

Peter takes Johnny’s hand off him then.

“I know that.”

“Then what? What made you think you couldn’t tell me you’re a fucking superhero?”

“What difference would it have made? This is none of your business.”

“None of my business? I--”

“Yeah, none of your business.”

They both stare at each other, Peter through the mask, Johnny empty-handed.

“We’re not eight anymore. You don’t have to keep protecting me because you’re older. This is something I have to do. Alone,” Peter nods, almost as if to convince himself of what he’s saying, and Johnny knows he’s staring him in the eyes, challenging him.

The punch if a bit excessive. It hurts Johnny more than it hurts Peter, but goddamn does it feel good to let some of that anger out, and let there be no doubt, Johnny has all the right--all the fucking right--to be angry at his best friend for playing superhero and not telling him.

Peter gasps, shocked more than anything else, before he turns around. He takes a flying leap towards the wall at the back of the alley and crawls it with ease, disappearing at the speed of a blink of an eye.

“You’re a real bastard, Peter Parker! A real fucking bastard…”

Johnny kicks a metal trash can, adding another injury to the count and flies home, embarrassed and hurt and still so mad he can’t even see straight.

* * *

When the anger goes away, all Johnny’s left with is the embarrassment and the pain.

Thinking back, he preferred the anger. At least when he was angry he felt like he could do something. Now all he wants is to mope in his bedroom and drown his sorrows in cheap alcohol like he’s fourteen again.

“You’re acting like a kid,” Sue says, reminding Johnny of something he already knows, “Just go talk to him.”

“I can’t,” Johnny hides further beneath the covers, until only his nose his popping out for fresh air.

“Can you at least tell me what you fought about?”

“No,” Johnny says, which is another shitty thing.

He and Peter aren’t talking, and since as far as Johnny knows, he’s the only one who knows about Peter’s secret, Johnny can’t talk to anyone else about it. Johnny’s not exactly known for being a fan of talking about his feelings, but he’d like to at least have the option to do so.

Johnny stops hanging out with both Spider-Man and Peter. He’s too stubborn to call and apologize like he should. Peter is too, or maybe he doesn’t want to talk to Johnny anymore after their fight. Maybe he’s still mad at Johnny. Maybe the breach between them is unfixable this time.

Before Johnny knows it, days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. Four months go by where Johnny and Peter don’t speak to each other once. They meet up every now and then at the battlefield, but Peter’s always gone before Johnny gets a chance to talk to him, and after a while Johnny stops trying.

To fill the void Peter’s absence has left in his life, Johnny throws himself face first into the playboy lifestyle the media is so fond of. He likes the attention, enjoys being famous probably more than he should considering how tiring and frustrating it can become. He never dates the same girl for more than one week, not truly interested in any of them, and he’s out every night at the most expensive clubs in the city wasting the money he gets from sponsoring things and using websites like Twitter, of all things.

It’s absurd how much money one can make for doing as simple as saying he loves Coca-Cola. If Peter were still around he’d be telling Johnny so, and making fun of him for it, but Peter’s gone, so who cares?

Sue glares at him a lot and Ben tries to ask him what’s wrong a bunch of times. It’s nice that they care, but Johnny doesn’t have the patience to deal with any of them meddling. Reed doesn’t even notice anything’s wrong, which is how Johnny likes it. He doesn’t need the rest of the team to be on his ass for partying a bit too hard.

It’s not the ideal lifestyle, hell, it’s not even a good one. Johnny spends more time on the edge between hungover and drunk than he does sober, and he feels like shit 24/7. The drinking gets his mind off things, though, which is the entire point.

Johnny’s good at a decent number of things. Partying is one of them, dealing with his emotions is not.

In the end, it takes Johnny ending up in the hospital three times for alcohol poisoning, the police threatening to arrest him for underage drinking regardless of his superhero status and Sue slapping him for Johnny to say enough is enough. Johnny’s more upset over a broken friendship than anyone in their right minds should be, and it’s time he lets go of the past and gets his shit together.

He doesn’t care that Peter is Spider-Man. Good for him. Johnny always knew he was meant for something great, although he never quite pictured him in red and blue spandex fighting crime. Peter was right, though. This is none of Johnny’s business, and if Peter doesn’t want Johnny around anymore, Johnny’s not going to mope about it for any longer.

Johnny’s decision to not care anymore holds true for about a month, until the day Rhino, Sandman, Electro and a few other of New York’s nastiest villains band together to raise hell.

Nobody’s sure what they’re trying to do, per se, they just know downtown New York is being wrecked like it ain’t nobody’s business and somebody needs to stop it.

Spider-Man is the first to get there, and by the time the Avengers and the Fantastic Four get there, he looks like he’s in a pretty bad shape. Johnny swallows hard and tells himself he doesn’t care, over and over again. This is what Peter asked for, it’s what he wants.

Yet, even though he knows he shouldn’t, Johnny can’t help but keep one eye on the fight and one eye on Peter the entire time. He just wants to make sure Peter doesn’t get seriously injured. His movements are slower than usual, and he looks like he’s already sporting a couple of injuries. It’s crazy for him to continue fighting without a team to act as backup, but Johnny chooses not to say anything. He has nothing to do with Peter and Spider-Man, not anymore.

This doesn’t stop Johnny’s stomach from pummelling and his heart from trying to escape his body when the Rhino grabs Peter like he’s a toy and slams him against the ground with all the force of a beast. By a miracle of chance, Peter’s arm gets stuck between his head and the ground, protecting his skull from the worst of the blow. Unfortunately, there’s nothing else between Peter and the ground, which is covered in glass, Jesus fuck. Johnny swears he can hear Peter’s bones shatter, the sound of his body hitting the concrete playing over and over in Johnny’s ears as he flies over and sends the Rhino flying against the side of the building.

He means to go check up on Peter, but the fight with the Rhino gets out of hand, and by the time Johnny’s done Peter’s already gone.

“Fuck,” Johnny whispers, angry at himself for letting Pete run away again.

He hands the Rhino over to some SHIELD agents and takes to the sky, where he’s able to spot Peter running away with a bad limp and the back of his suit torn to shreds from the glass.

“Spider-Man!” Johnny shouts, running after Peter when he doesn’t slow down. “Peter.”

The sound of his real name makes Peter stop and turn around.

“Come with me. The Baxter building is closer.”

Peter takes a look around and then says, voice modulator off. “I’m not letting you fly me.”

Johnny rolls his eyes at him. Trust Peter to bitch about flying with Johnny when he’s bleeding like crazy and looks like he’s one second away from passing out.

“Hey, Iron Man,” Johnny calls, raising the attention of a couple of the Avengers who have stuck around to help with the cleanup, “That car yours?”

Johnny points to a random SUV parked on the other side of the street. Iron Man takes one quick look at the car, and then one good look at Johnny and Peter. “It is now. Go crazy, kids.”

Johnny nods and gives him a small wave as thanks. He grabs Peter’s hand and drags him to the car, melting the locks on the doors to unlock them. There are two McDonalds meals on the front seats, a kids meal in the back, all left unfinished from when their owners grabbed all their shit and ran away as fast as they could. Johnny hopes they made it out of the fighting area safely.

“We’re stealing cars now?” Peter asks. His voice is all sarcasm and bite, but Johnny knows he’s only using it as a stupid defense mechanism. Whether it’s against the pain or Johnny, however, is a different question.

“Iron Man will pay for it later,” Johnny says, staring straight ahead.

The anger is back in full force, but this time it’s not directed at Peter. It’s directed at Rhino and all the other piece of shit villains who almost murdered Peter today. It’s directed at the people of New York City who won’t give Spider-Man a single word of praise. It’s directed at the world for constantly being in danger and subsequently putting Peter in the line of fire. It’s directed at himself for not getting to Peter sooner.

Johnny is angry. He’s infuriated beyond words, but more than that he’s scared shitless. He’s been scared for Peter’s sake ever since he found out the truth. He was simply too lost in his own head to realize it sooner.

“Call me. From now on, whenever something like this happens, you’ll call me and I’ll come, okay? I know you think you’re alone, Peter, but you’re not,” Johnny’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as his voice threatens to give up on him. Fuck this shit and fuck Peter Parker for making him feel like this.

“Okay,” is all Peter says. He’s sitting at the edge of his car seat, head bowed down and blood trailing down his back to the back of the car seat where it’s beginning to pool.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Johnny. From now on I’m calling you whenever I need help.”

Johnny forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel and nod. He’s not sure how far he can trust Peter to keep his promise, which sucks and doesn’t reassure Johnny in any way whatsoever or make him feel the least bit better, but he knows this is the most he can ask.

Peter has always been independent and strong-minded. Even when he was getting punched in the face and asking too many questions to the wrong people at the wrong time, Peter always stuck up for himself. He does what he thinks he has to do, and that’s the end of. Johnny’s not going to say he wouldn’t have him any other way because that’s bullshit, that is one hundred percent bullshit. Peter is his best friend and if Johnny could figure out a way to make him less death-prone, he would. He’s pretty sure Peter would do the same for him, which says a lot about both of them, doesn’t it?

The garage entrance for the Baxter Building is hidden at the back, away from the paparazzi loitering at the front of the building. Johnny leaves the car in a random spot and heads for the elevator, looking back every two steps to make sure Peter hasn’t passed out on the ground. Peter is nothing if not stubborn, though, and Johnny knows he can hold himself up for hours if he has to on will alone.

That thought is not the least bit comforting.

“You’re looming,” Peter says.

“I know.”

Johnny’s standing right in front of Peter, checking his body for injuries. There are a couple of cuts on his left arm from where it scraped the ground, and he’s leaning most of his weight on one leg, but other than that there aren’t any more injuries Johnny can see.

The elevator rings and the doors open on the floor of the living quarters. Johnny takes a step back and takes Peter’s hand, leading them both to his bedroom.

“Sit,” he commands, exactly like Peter had commanded him years ago.

There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom. Johnny props it open on one of his bedside tables and gets out everything he needs to clean Peter’s wounds and bandage them. He won’t be able to give Peter proper medical treatment, but he’s seen Spider-Man get hit by entire cars one day and be swinging through New York City like he’s having the time of his life the next, so Johnny figures basic treatment will do.

Peter takes off the mask and drops it on the ground, peeling back the rest of the suit carefully, inch by inch. Johnny helps him take it off until the suit is hanging at his hips.

Up close and without the fabric covering it, Peter’s back doesn’t look so bad. Some of the minor scrapes look like they’re already healing up, while the deeper ones look red and gruesome, but not overwhelmingly so. Johnny never thought he’d reach a point in his life where he’d refer to a six inch cut across his best friend’s back as ‘not overwhelmingly gruesome’, but that’s life now.

Johnny’s not sure how he feels about it, but he’s not going to start asking existential questions now, when he has bigger problems to take care of first.

Peter hisses at the first contact with the antiseptic paper, but he’s quiet from then on, leaving it to Johnny to fill the awkward silence. “You’re an idiot,” he says, not the best choice of first words. Peter doesn’t reply so Johnny continues. “I’m an idiot too, and I’m sorry, for getting mad at you and not apologizing sooner.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for not telling you,” his voice sounds a little lighter than it was moments ago, a little more relaxed. Johnny smiles and decides to further test the waters.

“You’re still a nerd.”

There’s a second of silence where Johnny worries he overstepped, said the wrong thing or too much like he often does, but then Peter speaks and Johnny’s worries fade away. “And you’re a secret nerd. Who’s the real loser here?”

“Still you.”

“Whatever, _secret nerd_.”

Johnny makes a little humming noise and laughs, focusing back on his work. After he’s done cleaning all the cuts he starts bandaging them, one by one. A medical professional would get the job done a lot faster, but Johnny only has basic training from a seminar Sue forced all the Four to take when they first formed their crazy band of superheroes.

It’s a laborious process. By the time Johnny’s done, he’s ready to never look at another bandage, wound or cute again in his entire life.

The fact these are Peter’s wounds, and that Peter was the one thrown against the ground like a wet paper towel, makes everything worse. Knowing this is Johnny’s best friend, stupid Peter Parker, who’s probably never even been to a gym in his entire life and nearly flunked PE, who up until a couple of months ago couldn’t even do ten push-ups and now is out lifting cars and nearly getting himself killed everyday. It’s difficult to stomach; the ‘it makes Johnny wants to punch himself in the face and throw up’ kind of difficult.

“You almost died, Peter. You--” Johnny rests his head on the back of Peter’s naked shoulder and breathes the scent of Peter’s skin, a mix of dried blood and iodine. “You almost died, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t,” Peter says, quiet, slightly out of breath.

“But you almost _did_ ,” Johnny spits out, voice only slightly above a whisper. He runs a hand over Peter’s shoulder, letting it rest against the front of his neck where he can feel Peter’s heartbeat, can feel the rise and fall of Peter’s chest, can make sure Peter is alive and breathing and not dead on the floor like he could have been, like he almost was.

Peter falls back into Johnny’s touch, takes deep steadying breaths and lets Johnny check his torso for another bruises with his fingertips. When Johnny kisses the back of Peter’s neck, he’s ready to pull back at any second. He’s ready to take a step back and leave, although he won’t pretend this never happened again, like they did in Miami. They could blame it on the alcohol and hormones and whatever else then, but they can’t do it now, or at least Johnny won’t.

They’re both sober and aware of what’s happening, with no messing around. To Johnny, this feels like another step in the direction they were always headed. It doesn’t feel new or strange. It’s just him and Peter, and him kissing Peter. It feels right, if that counts for anything.

“Johnny…” Peter mutters. His head’s bowed, as if it’s too heavy for Peter to keep holding up, but the lines of his shoulders are as straight as a plank, tense and ready to snap. Peter’s hair has fallen over his eyes and Johnny wants to pull it back, so he does.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” he says as turns Peter’s head to the side so he can kiss the line of Peter’s jaw.

Peter shakes his head minutely, and Johnny lets out a breath in relief. He trails lazy kisses all over Peter’s jaw, scraping his teeth in the perfect skin there when he notices it makes Peter shiver.

“This is really happening,” Peter turns around and looks right into Johnny’s eyes as he speaks, before he looks down at Johnny’s lips. He looks like he can’t believe this is really happening; Johnny knows the feeling. The moment gives Johnny a flashback from the last time they kissed, which makes him decide a reenactment is in order.

Peter’s lips are soft and a little chapped and Johnny takes pleasure in mapping them with the tip of his tongue as he licks open Peter’s mouth. What starts out as a slow, romantic kiss turns sloppy in just a couple of seconds, with Peter climbing over Johnny’s lap until Johnny is lying down on the bed and Peter’s on him.

They run their hands over each other’s bodies, Johnny taking care not to touch any of Peter’s wounds and taking delight in messing up Peter’s hair. At some point the rest of Peter’s costume comes off, Johnny’s hands having something to do with it, and Peter doesn’t waste any time pulling off Johnny’s own until they’re both naked.

“Holy shit,” Johnny says, echoing Peter’s thoughts from earlier.

“Yeah,” Peter says, breathy voice that enters through Johnny’s ears and goes down straight to his dick.

Peter looks… He looks amazing. He’s blushing from the tip of his ears down, until his chest, and his hair is in a crazy disarray from when Johnny had run his hands through it. His pupils are blown wide and his breath is coming a little too quick. He looks debauched, is what he looks like, and it’s an amazing look on him.

“Hold on,” Johnny says, sitting up so Peter has to sit down on Johnny’s lap to keep his balance, lining up their cocks, “Can you lie down for me?”

Peter nods, not even thinking about it, and he moves so he’s lying on his back in the center of the bed. Johnny takes a minute to look at him and watch Peter squirm under the attention. He wants to memorize every line, angle and soft corner of Peter’s body, wants to know every scar and stop him from getting any more, wants to kiss and bite every inch of his skin until Peter is littered with marks. Johnny’s marks. He would never characterise himself as a possessive person, but Peter just seems to pull out that side of Johnny.

Peter’s like a magnet that Johnny can’t stay away from, no matter how much he tries. He makes Johnny want everything Peter will give him.

Looking at Peter now, Johnny thinks maybe he can have it.

He takes Peter’s cock in his mouth to the very root in one quick, practiced motion, while he keeps his eyes fixed on Peter’s face. Johnny’s given enough blowjobs to know the motions by heart, so it’s easy to let his focus shift onto just watching Peter lose control, and damn, if it’s not a good sight.

Peter seems to be unable to control his hips, pushing up into the heat of Johnny’s mouth and letting out a string of apologies right now. Johnny couldn’t keep Peter’s hips down even if he tried, superhuman strength and all that, so he doesn’t bother trying. Johnny enjoys this more, anyway. Out of the two of them, Peter is always the one in control, always the one keeping himself in line, so if losing it means he facefucks him, then Johnny’s definitely not complaining.

Johnny sucks the head of Peter’s dick until Peter wraps a hand at the base of his skull and pushes his head down. He loves the feeling of Peter’s nails scratching the back of his neck, wonders if they’ll leave marks. Peter seems to be having a hard time figuring out whether he wants to watch Johnny or throw his head back and moan. He alternates between the two motions, and Johnny savors both sights. He doesn’t really care if Peter’s watching him with blown pupils and parted lips, or if he only gets to stare at the long line of his throat as he hears Peter’s breath hitch higher and his moans get louder.

Johnny takes the base of Peter’s dick in one of his hands, spitting on it to make the slide smoother. His jaw is beginning to ache a bit, but it’s nothing that he can’t handle. Not to mention that the ache is totally worth it, when he licks a final strip all the way from the root to the head of Peter’s dick and sucks just as Peter comes inside his mouth, back arching off the bed and voice echoing around the room.

With the back of his hand, Johnny wipes his mouth and stands on his knees, internally debating whether or not it’s acceptable to ask for a return favour. Peter ends up making the decision for him by pulling Johnny into a rough kiss and turning them around so Johnny’s the one lying down and Peter’s straddling him again.

He only hesitates for a second before he reaches back and tentatively sucks the head of Johnny’s dick.

“You ever done this before?” Johnny asks. His voice sounds raspy as hell and throughly fucked and he couldn’t be less embarrassed about it.

Peter pulls off and shakes his head, looking at Johnny with his huge, doe eyes.

Johnny has to look at the ceiling and breathe deep through his nose for a second. Alright. Okay. Peter’s giving his first blowjob to Johnny. No biggie.

“Just take it slow, okay?” he says, making Peter laugh.

“Johnny Storm telling someone to take it slow. There’s a first time for everything.”

Johnny’s about to complain, an indignant ‘hey!’ on the back of his throat ready to come out when Peter takes him down to the root in one movement, just like Johnny had done to him. Johnny’s complaint cuts off into a drawn out moan Johnny has no control of whatsoever. It doesn’t help that Peter stays there for a seconds, as if he’s testing the waters. When he finally settles whatever internal discussion he was having, he pulls back almost to the head of Johnny’s dick, pressing his flat tongue against the head before he goes down again, as easy as one breathes.

“Oh my god, you don’t have a gag reflex,” Johnny gasps, voice a reverent prayer to whatever deity made sure Peter Parker didn’t have a motherfucker gag reflex.

If Johnny was close before, he’s right at the edge now. He means to last, but when he gets his hands around Peter’s hair to pull him off, Peter moans--he actually fucking moans--around Johnny’s dick and takes him further, dragging Johnny off the edge of the cliff like Johnny’s a large bag of rocks tied to a car with no brakes.

That was a shit metaphor. Who cares? Johnny just had one of the best orgasms of his life and he’s having a hard time breathing, much less thinking.

Peter swallows, frowning and making one of his typical gag faces as he does so and making Johnny laugh at him.

“You can spit, you know,” Johnny says. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, but his whole body feels heavy and loaded with sleep and all he wants is for someone to turn off the lights and Peter to lie down next to him.

He gets the latter in a second when Peter slumps on the bed and cuddles next to Johnny, proving something Johnny already knew. Peter Parker is a cuddler.

“I know, but I didn’t want to get up and go to the bathroom,” Peter says against the side of Johnny’s torso.

“Touché.”

Johnny waits for a while, until his brain tells him no, the lights aren’t going to turn themselves off. With a tired sigh Johnny reaches over and flicks off the switch.

He thinks he and Peter should probably talk about their feelings and what happened and all that crap, but that can all happen later. Right now Johnny just wants to sleep.

He always did sleep best with Peter next to him.

* * *

Johnny wakes up with an octopus around him. Oh wait, it’s not an octopus, it’s Peter, who still hasn’t learned how to sleep on his side of the bed like a normal human being. He can climb buildings and power lift cars like it’s nothing, however. Go figure.

Despite the fact that Johnny has no moving space and Peter’s head is lodged between his neck and his shoulder like a rock, Johnny’s still comfortable. He’s the most comfortable he’s been in a while, to be honest, which kind of answers the whole ‘holy shit, was having sex with my best friend turned secret superhero a good decision?’ debacle that’s started to brew in the back of Johnny’s head.

Johnny’s pretty happy with this answer. Fingers crossed he’s not the only one feeling this way.

He waits for Peter to wake up on his own, clicks the button besides his bedside table to open the curtains a fraction and let some of the sunlight pour in. Peter’s always been a heavier sleeper than Johnny, which is fine. They’ve got all the time in the world.

Eventually, though, Johnny has to go to the bathroom to take a leak. As he tries to detach himself from Peter, said sleeping person wakes up, blinking his eyes slowly as he gives Johnny a very judgemental look.

“I didn’t wake you up on purpose, idiot. Go back to sleep,” Johnny pats Peter’s head and tries to slip away again, scouring the floor of his bedroom for a pair of boxers--his, hopefully, but he’s not pick.

“Wait, wait,” Peter says, grabbing Johnny’s hips and keeping him firmly grounded on the bed. Johnny tries to wriggle away, but Peter’s Spider-Man strength is, well, it’s super human strength, basically. There’s nothing Johnny can do against it except maybe burn Peter, but he has no intentions of doing that.

For one, Johnny _wants_ to have this conversation. He’s a mature, responsible adult and he’s not afraid of possibly, maybe, god forbid it, breaking up with his best friend. He’s not. Nope. He has two tubs of ice cream in the freezer and he’s going to handle this like a man, and cry like a different, sadder man later. That’s right.

For two, Peter’s super human strength is hot, and that’s something no one can deny.

Which brings Johnny to the moment at hand, where Peter is keeping him in bed and they’re both naked and a couple of hours ago Johnny had Peter’s cock in his mouth.

Life sure is a roller coaster.

“Are we, I mean, are we like together? Like, together together?” Peter asks. Johnny figures he can reply and say yes, or he can kiss Peter and see if he’s up for round two.

Plan B sounds far more exciting.

Peter melts into the kiss as soon as their lips touch, lets Johnny roll them around so Peter’s on top and Johnny’s the one lying down. They kiss for a long moment, and it’s like coming back to life again, or breathing fresh air for the first time in months, which sounds so fucking cliché Johnny wants to punch himself for even thinking it, but it’s the truth. Peter Parker is one of the most important people in Johnny’s life, and he’s been there almost since the beginning, through the good and the bad. These past couple of months Johnny got a firsthand experience of what life without Mad Peter Parker is like and it’s not good, it’s really, terribly not good.

Kissing him is so much better.

“How’s your back?” Johnny asks between kisses, letting his fingers lightly graze the bandages on Peter’s skin.

“Better, it’s almost healed up now,” Peter replies and goes back to kissing Johnny.

When they finally break apart, with one of them trailing after the other to leave one more kiss, again and again, until they stop for good, Peter rests his head on Johnny’s shoulder and says, voice tiny and on the edge, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you were eight and you bought me ice cream after punching me.”

Johnny feels like he’s stopped breathing. He tries to look at Peter in the eye, but Peter won’t budge from where he’s nestled against Johnny’s neck. “That was like, the very first day we met.”

“I know.”

“Oh,” Johnny stares at the white ceiling, trying to figure out the right thing to say here. In the end he goes with the most obvious answer. “I think with me, it started after my parents’ funeral, when you got drunk with me at my Mom’s old maiden apartment. It wasn’t until Miami though that I realized my interest wasn’t based on just friendship.”

“So we missed like, what? A year of time where we could have been making out and having sex in all our spare time? Sounds like a lot of missed time we have to catch up on,” Peter leans back so that he’s sitting on top of Johnny and their cocks line up perfectly. Oh, he’s smart, he’s so damn smart.

“I’m sure we can do it if we--” Johnny groans when Peter spits on his hand and takes both their cocks, jerking them off together, “put our heads together.”

“That was so lame I’m not even gonna reply to it.”

“Good.”

Johnny’s never been more thankful for the existence of supervillains in his life.

And later, when they’re lying in bed together, not worrying about anything for once, Johnny will say. “Hey, do you remember when we got married?”

“When we were kids? Yeah, I divorced you a week later because you punched me or something.”

“I tackled you, I didn’t punch you,” Johnny says, indignant voice in full force. Every time he’s punched Peter, and there have been a couple over the years, most recent during their big fallout, Johnny’s always had a good reason.

“Same thing.”

“Not in a million years. But anyway, as I was saying, we should do that again.”

Peter lifts his head from the pillow to look at him, frown lines appear between his eyebrows as he thinks. “Do what?”

“Get married.”

“We literally started dating two hours ago.”

Johnny rolls over and grabs Peter, pulling him closer so that Peter’s back is resting against Johnny’s naked chest. “I would make a good husband.”

Peter laughs and kicks Johnny’s legs. “You would make a terrible husband.”

And of course Johnny’s joking, they have, as Peter so brilliantly pointed out, literally started dating two hours ago. But it’s a nice thought though, isn’t it? They’d be Mr. and Mr. Storm-Parker.

Catchy.

“You just want to put a ring on it. Well, Johnny Storm, here’s a nice surprise for you: I’m a strong, independent young man who don’t need no man.”

Johnny laughs, loud and obnoxious, right against Peter’s ear to piss him off.

Marriage can wait then.

* * *

Dating Peter is a lot like being his best friend, except for the part where they’re more glued to each other than ever, there’s a lot of sex and Johnny worries for Peter’s safety twenty-seventh percent more than he did before.

Overall, everything in Johnny’s life improves because of his new relationship status. Johnny could lie and say he’s surprised by that, but he’s not, not even one bit. After all, he’s dating a total genius, who is also a total idiot, who is also totally wonderful, if we’re getting sappy about it. There was no way dating him would be anything but crazy and so definitely worth it.

So maybe Johnny’s kind of a sap and a little bit of a nerd too. Whatever, he’s said it once and he’ll say it again, Peter is contagious. His whole personality is contagious, and what a good thing that is.

* * *

When they do get married, it’s four years later, and Peter’s the one down on one knee.

It’s the cheesiest proposal ever, with fireworks and cake and all their friends around to scream in the right places and take a billion pictures.

Johnny says yes, obviously. Some relationships last only a second, and others last for life. This one is the latter, but there were never any doubts about that.

* * *

Tony Stark pays for the wedding because Tony Stark can never resist an opportunity to transform his money into beautiful, outlandish and totally over the top parties.

It’s the event of the month and they go to the Caribbean islands afterwards where Johnny almost convinces Peter to get a dick piercing.

“This is just like Miami,” Johnny says, petting Peter’s hair.

Peter’s hair is crazy soft, like a soft wool blanket or a the inside of a feathered pillow. It’s quite nice.

“Except for the sex.”

“Except for the sex,” Johnny agrees.

The sex is an amazing addition to their relationship, but with it or without it, Johnny’s happy.

They both are.

 

>   
>  “(i was lucky you were there  
>  as you have always been  
>  to breathe air back into my lungs)”


End file.
